For the Mom Who’s Had Enough

Were the missing play dough canisters really worth it?

Were they worth the yelling? The words flung carelessly into the hallway air? And then all of the tears. Mommy’s tears.  My tears. Knowing that yet again I failed my children. I failed my son. I failed to serve him, failed to be patient with him and with his four-year old mind. I failed to love him perfectly.

Little children such as these shall see the kingdom of heaven.

And then after what in hindsight seemed like an insufficient apology, because “there really is never an excuse for yelling,”  he forgave me. Simply, quickly and sincerely. He forgave the thoughtlessness. The anger hurled at him. The hurt feelings on his part.

 

Little children such as these shall see the kingdom of heaven. 

 

What does that even mean? That the “little children such as these shall see the kingdom of heaven”? What did Jesus mean when he said that, exactly? I mean, of course he could mean it in the literal sense. But what makes us different from children, anyway? Aren’t we supposed to mature as we grow into the body of Christ? Aren’t we supposed to put away the things of old and prepare to be doer’s and teachers of the word, to be more than undeveloped minds who need to be taught the same thing, again and again?

 

Then why did Jesus bring it back to them? Why did he tell us that to see heaven in its glory, we needed to have hearts like children?

How do I do this? The mountains of dishes. The early wake up calls. The kids who won’t go to sleep. The dirt in the corners of every room. The laundry. The windows with handprints all over them. The carpets that are always covered in dog fur. The interrupted phone calls. The petty squabbles broken up. The errands that go awry. The never-ending array of goldfish crackers and clam shells on the van floor. Who can do this? Who can love perfectly amidst all of this? Who can have a heart like children and be able to take care of children??

 

Little children such as these shall see the kingdom of heaven.

 

I am still learning what that phrase means, and I am learning it from my children. The thing about us adults is that we convolute what really matters. We fret over the wrong things, we make war with what we shouldn’t even be worried twice about. We get buried under everything that we THINK we are supposed to be primarily worried about. When sometimes, the mission is very clear.

 

Our first love.

 

Our first love is Jesus. Our first loves in this world are our spouses and our children. No if’s and’s or but’s about it. How many times must I forget my first love(s)? How many times must I brush aside what truly matters and devote energy and stress and give power to the things that don’t?

 

His grace flows down and covers me. Do we wash in it? Or do we fight it? Do we convince ourselves that there is no room for grace in the presence of the mom that yells, the children that fight or for the mom that wants to just call it a day and give up at 9:34 a.m.? Do we think that grace doesn’t have it’s place on the chore lists? Do we think that we have too much work to do and that grace doesn’t cover the practical and the menial in our day-to-day lives? It does. It IS the chore list. It pursues us. Grace is where the REAL work is done, the real cleansing soap and water, cutting through the grit.

It has much to do, everyday. Because I, we, need it every moment of everyday.

 

Little children such as these shall see the kingdom of heaven.

Little children who forgive repeatedly. Little children who love earnestly. Little children who care only about what matters. Little children who see with purity.

 

Find your grace today. Or better yet, open your eyes and absorb and wallow in grace today. And let it do the work.

The Game of Unbelief

 

I’m in a motherhood rut. Not even that, a rut in general.

Everything has gotten to me lately. The messy house, the children and their occasional disobedience. Lack of energy, lack of time, lack of personal space. I look around and see glasses half empty. I see tasks unfinished. I see things that I either can’t get on top of, or things that I don’t even have the faintest desire to even try to tackle. I’m in a mode where all that I am primarily concerned with is existing, with getting through each day until nap time and bed time. With getting through all of the days until the weekend. I’m concerned merely with enduring, not with connection or attachment. I look around and see all of the things that I don’t believe that I can do. I see everything that I want to give up on.

It’s taken a little while to admit to myself and to a few others just how I’m feeling these days. I’d rather be fuzzy on the details when someone asks how I’ve been and joke that I want a nap or a day out to myself. The truth is that I need so much more than either of those things, I need a realignment. I need a shift in my own heart, in the way that I see things. I need to change just what it is I’m seeking after. I need to have the haze around me lifted, so that I can see things from more than just my point of view and see them from eternity’s eyes instead of my own limited vision.

I can’t see past the messy house. I can’t see past the to-do lists. I can’t see past the lack of sleep on some days. I can’t see past the children who have driven me just a little bit crazy lately. I can’t see past the expectations that people have of me.  But it isn’t just that I have no vision, or even actually attempt to have a vision of grander things, of the greater purpose. It’s that I fool myself sometimes into thinking that I do. And when I do, either one of two things happen: I make my OWN set of plans for how things should be, for how I want them to go. OR, I convince myself that things are the way that they are and that maybe one day they will magically be better.

I’ve been reading Oswald Chambers lately, and in one of his daily devotions he talks about our stubbornness in letting God grow us where He would have us. Sometimes, I refuse to let myself put down roots where God would have me. I have an idea of what I want my life to be. And when that happens, when I am so caught up in the presuppositions of what I think I should have or in what I should be allowed for everything else becomes the enemy. The home, the children, the responsibilities of daily life. Anything that stands in my way or dares to interrupt my time, ambitions or desires? They’re the antagonists. I would rather coil up in my own shell with my own agenda than allow God to glorify Himself in my life, than allow Him to work in my life to cause beautiful things to grow. Would I rather be a sapling, or would I rather be a magnificent oak tree? Whose roots run deep, whose foundation is buried strong within the earth, stretching out in all directions??

The answer would seem to be obvious, but alas, it isn’t always. It is most certainly at odds with my nature to give in, it is at odds with my flesh to allow anything other than my festering desires to grow. And what comes from all of this? Frustration. Struggle. Turmoil.

Trials that I create for myself, by myself. 

There are many causes to how I am feeling lately. But I can’t help but feel as though a large part of my problem is my lack of belief on God’s part.

Am I really saved?

Am I really where He would have me?

Can I really have life and have it abundantly?

Is it all really forgiven and accomplished?

It’s the equivalent of the serpent saying, “Did God SAY..?” That hissing in the back of my mind, those doubts…they cause me to want to fix things myself. They make me want to put the band-aid over a gaping wound. They make me want to fix things myself instead of allowing God to work. They’re useless thoughts. These seeds of doubt are what I am allowing to take root instead of God’s truth. Do we really believe that we can do all things through Christ who gives us strength? That He has raised us up, with a purpose, to be His witness to all of the Earth? Do we believe that there is shelter beneath His wings, safety in His hands? Do we believe in the master plan, the ultimate and eternal design? The final destination?

And if we do, or say that we do…do these truths settle into our bones? Do these truths comfort us our in weakened state? Or do we say, ” yea, yea” and let the power slip past us? Or worse, do we think that God needs OUR help?  If we believe these words, there would be nothing to doubt, to fear or to anguish over. There will always be fear and pain, certainly. But do we brace ourselves and boast and laugh at the worries of tomorrow because we have a mighty God on our side?

I’m tired of living emptily. I’m tired of suspending my disbelief, accepting the superficial for the sake of empty performance. It isn’t enough. I am not enough.

Praise God that I am not enough and that He and He alone is. 

Ears On

My husband and I bicker sometimes. Some days more than others, some days not at all. Usually our bickering is rooted in the desire for one of us to prove the other one wrong over something otherwise trivial. It is almost always rooted in finding fun in being competitive for no good reason. A week or so ago, on a Sunday morning, while getting ready for church my husband and I fell upon the discussion of what Sunday actually is. Rob’s frame of thinking is that Sundays are the weekend, therefore the last day of the week. The way that I had always figured, Sundays were the beginning of the week. And seeing as how they sit at the BEGINNING of a new week on each calendar, I’d say I’m pretty sure I might possibly be right, thank you Julius Caesar. Time in scripture as of late has had me finding passages that seem to have a common theme. And even some sisters in Christ have found and are sharing parts of the word that they too have been studying. And my argument discussion with Rob brought this all to the forefront of my mind, and was almost like it all hit me at once. I used to think that Sundays were a great way to begin a week. You have fellowship with the saints, time to worship, hear the message and share in communion with him. Rob’s conversation got me thinking…should it matter where a Sunday falls on the timeline of a week? Whether or not I view my time on the Sabbath as the beginning of a week or an end, to view it as solely as one or the other would be incorrect. And for that matter, whether I view my time during the week, the day in and day out hustle and bustle as either simply chronos (minutes, hours, days) time or kairos ( (the metaphysical and ethereal)  time would also be missing the point. My time at Sabbath should mark the end of and beginning of my week. A time to cap off what should be a week spent living in God’s promises. Living in His righteousness and His word. A time to take bread and confess my heart and my hurts. A time to pour out what has been building inside of me all week. It should also be a time to leave feeling renewed. A time to leave, looking forward to His works throughout the week. A time to anticipate new joys found in Him. My days of the week shouldn’t be thus divided into time to be “with” the Lord and the time for everything else – after all, does the Lord really have His hand in when I do the dishes? The Lord shouldn’t be my covering for the week. He shouldn’t be my fail safe, or fall back plan. And even placing Him at the forefront of my time wouldn’t entirely be getting it right either.

The Lord is time. The Lord is our time. 

15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. 

16 For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible,

whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.

17 And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

He gives us His time. It is a gift. He should be the thread which holds our weeks, days and even hours together. The Lord promises rest for those that come to Him. He promises joy for those that seek Him. He promises to offer to us that which is everlasting.

Isaiah 55: 3

“Incline your ear and come to me;

hear, that your soul may live, 

and I will make with you an everlasting covenant…”

The Lord holds all things together. For those that rest in Him, He promises an eternal covenant. He promises Himself. He speaks in terms of eternity. And while He relates to us by eternity, He also relates to us by His seasons.

So much of my reading as of late has spoken of seasons. The earth that has been tilled and churned, ready for and receiving water. Then sprouting, bursting forth with life. He knows that sometimes, we will get lost and miss the big picture, the grand picture. We will toil in our days. We will have worry. We will have anxiety. We will have trials and tests. He promises to us that that which he unearths, He will use for His might and His glory.

Isaiah 55 10-11:

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

and do not return there but water the earth

making it bring forth sprout, 

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, 

and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” 

Each Sunday, each day, hour or moment is the Lord’s. Filled with our Lord’s time. He did create it, after all. Sometimes, when I am caught up in the day and with it all of the aggravations it can bring, I need to look forward. To rest in the Lord and His promises. To find my peace, capability and sometimes, worth through him. To see that He is cultivating and giving me things that are not perishable. That His word and promises don’t change.  But sometimes, when I am caught up in wanting to see the big picture come to fruition and to prematurely hurry things along, I must take a step back and survey where I am. The season I am in, the trials the Lord has at hand for me in the present. Whether it be feast or famine, it is from my God’s hand. It is good. He has His works to accomplish, I am only the messenger. A small factor in the big equation. And no matter if I am in the dessert, no matter if I am in lush gardens, it is the Lord who will accomplish all that is great if I am in Him.

Isaiah 58: 6-12

6 “Is not this the fast that I choose:

to loose the bonds of wickedness,

to undo the straps of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover him,

and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?

8Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,

and your healing shall spring up speedily;

your righteousness shall go before you;

the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;

you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’

If you take away the yoke from your midst,

the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,

10 if you pour yourself out for the hungry

and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,

then shall your light rise in the darkness

and your gloom be as the noonday.

11 And the Lord will guide you continually

and satisfy your desire in scorched places

and make your bones strong;

and you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring of water,

whose waters do not fail.

12 And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;

you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;

you shall be called the repairer of the breach,

the restorer of streets to dwell in.

I pray that the next time I find myself wanting to hurry the clock along, or the weeks along, that I will remember to stop. To see this all as fruitful and beautiful time. To take note of where I am, to thank God for my blessings and ask Him to continue to bless me. I pray I remember what it is that the Lord is cultivating, and that I may be a good stewart of it. I pray that the next time I’me eager to see and make things how I would have them, or the next time I have fears about what is to come, that the Lord would pull me back from that precipice and take the blinders off of my eyes so that I may say and relish in the here and now.

Maybe by the time I’m 150 years old I’ll have all of this down, and stop questioning and “fixing” time, my seasons or my circumstances. Yea, right, I did say “maybe.”